


With Uncertain Ends

by yaseanne



Category: Better Call Saul (TV), Breaking Bad
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Self-cest, Something Made Them Do It, Time Travel, brief Jesse cameo, this is not my beautiful show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3441029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaseanne/pseuds/yaseanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a perfect world, mysterious forces require Saul to go back in time and seduce himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Uncertain Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the unflappable inouken.  
> With thanks to sarcastic-clapping whose post inspired this and to inouken and saulpinkmans who made a lot of incoherent noises when I pitched the idea.  
> I am so sorry.

When he steps out of the alley the first thing Saul sees is a _Back to the Future II_ poster clinging to a dark storefront. Saul is not a superstitious man, but he’ll take it as a good sign. He checks his pockets - he’s got everything he needs - and takes a quick look at the countdown on his phone - three hours, forty minutes - and sets off to find himself.

 

\-- five hours earlier --

 

“By the way, kid,” he says casually when Jesse is about to leave, as if this wasn’t the very reason he’d called the guy in, “You don’t happen to have any drugs on you, do you?”

He barely has time to blink before Jesse is leaning on his desk, all furious eyes and white knuckles.

“So what? It’s my own business,” he snaps. Then he gives Saul a calculating once-over that raises the hairs at the back of his neck. “Besides, I didn’t know you were into that.”

“It’s not for me,” Saul says, and at Jesse’s _yeah-right_ look, “I’ve got a nervous client.”

“And why would I give you my weed?” asks Jesse.

“You could help me out here,” Saul says. He calmly strokes his tie to cover his nervousness. “Five bucks for whatever you’ve got in your pocket, and I’ll put in a good word next time Walter does one of his stunts.”

Jesse, bless him, looks outraged. “This is worth more than five bucks, yo,” he says, and just like that, Saul’s got him.

 

\-- later --

 

If he were a poetic man, Saul would say that walking through Cicero at night was like walking through a museum of his biggest mistakes. Over there, the corner that cost the city six grand in ‘83. The supermarket that Sandy worked at. The bar where she broke up with him. The alley where he and Henry ran - would run - the Rolex scam. The point is, by the time he reaches his childhood home, he’s almost psyched himself out. 

He forgoes the main entrance and tackles the fence instead, pushing it down with one hand and swinging his legs over. There’s an ugly tearing sound as his pants leg rips near the seam and he’s reminded of the advantages of jeans. 

The basement door is unlocked, and when he leans his ear against it for a moment, he can hear the riffs of _Permanent Waves_. He can’t hear anyone speak though, so he takes the risk and opens the door just a crack.

And there he is.

Slouched into the ratty couch, eyes closed, James Morgan McGill is drumming his fingers to the beat.

Saul allows himself a moment to take it in; the mullet, the hideous sweater, the unmistakable scent of marijuana mixed with twenty-seven years of desperation and aimlessness. He tries to think of a good way to announce himself, something that won’t end in screaming, but Jimmy opens his eyes and actually beats him to it. 

“Wow,” he says in a lazy drawl. “This was really good stuff, man.”

Saul snorts. “I’m not a hallucination.” Then he stops and mentally slaps himself. The hallucination excuse would have made this a lot easier.

“Right, because I’m so popular my future selves drop by all the time.” Jimmy straightens incrementally. “Just last week this old geezer was here, knocking around with his walking stick. I said ‘sorry, gramps, this nursing home’s full’.”

“You got a mouth on you, kid,” Saul says offhandedly and walks over to sit beside Jimmy, who gives him a crooked grin. “I’m not a hallucination. I’m a time traveller.” 

Jimmy’s grin widens. “Yeah, you’re Marty McFly. I’m sure you’ve got your hoverboard parked right outside.”

“You don’t believe me?” Saul asks and slips his hand into his pocket. “We have time machines in the future. Look, it fits into your pocket.” He flashes his iphone quickly.

“Seriously?” Jimmy perks up. “Let me see.”

“Hands off.” Saul actually slaps his wandering hand away. He takes one of the joints - thirty bucks, all to keep Jesse Pinkman happy - out of his pocket. 

“I was gonna give this to you, but now I’m thinking you’ve got a head start. And if you think about it, in a way, I really am giving it to myself.” He pauses at the phrasing.

“You’re here to get high with your younger self?” Jimmy asks. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

The once-over he gives Saul is almost comically different from the way Jesse had looked at him earlier: earnest and grandiose. “By the way, what’s with the suit? I get to fifty and turn into a weatherman?”

“Yeah, keep talking, blue jeans,” Saul says drily. He inhales once, deeply, and relaxes back into the couch. Then he’s up again, struggling with his jacket. While he drapes it over the back of the couch and undoes his cufflinks, Jimmy steals the spliff. They share it in uncharacteristic silence, Geddy Lee warbling about free will in the background. 

When Jimmy stubbs the butt out, Saul puts the two remaining joints on the table and gives Jimmy his most winning smile. 

“Have you ever heard of the fuck-or-fight theory?” he asks. 

Jimmy’s eyebrows almost reach his hairline - and Saul is briefly jealous - and his voice shakes with barely contained laughter when he says, “It’s kinda sad when your elders can’t handle their drugs anymore.”

Saul gives him a little shove. “It’s the question what you’d do if you ever met your clone. Would you fight them or fuck them?” He pauses, then adds helpfully, “Most people go with fuck.”

“I can think of better things to do with a clone,” Jimmy says. Saul has to agree, he can practically see the number of scams he could pull off with a clone. Especially one who’s as young and naive as Jimmy.

He shakes his head. “Sorry, we don’t have time for that.”

“How much time do we - do you have?” Jimmy asks. Saul does a rough calculation, reluctant to show his time-travel machine again.

“About two hours.”

“There goes the morning after,” Jimmy mock-sighs. Then his eyes turn sharp. “Wait,” he says. “You seriously want to fuck me?” 

“To save the world,” Saul says. He doesn’t bother giving Jimmy his pokerface, besides, he’s completely serious.

"You know, I was never into the older guy thing," Jimmy says, and Saul has to interrupt him.

"Okay, that's one: untrue, remember Danny back in high school? Hm? There’s precedent. And two: are you sure you don't want to know what this body can do in ten, fifteen years?" He doesn’t bother trying to pose, but he does wiggle his eyebrows.

“Try twenty,” Jimmy retorts. “Anyway, what’s in it for me?” he asks. This is what Saul expected - Jimmy would be looking for the angle because he knows himself too well.

“You get to come,” Saul says bluntly. “With someone who knows how you need it.” At that, he can hear Jimmy’s rough inhale, and when he glances down, Jimmy’s hands are kneading the couch fabric. Saul mentally congratulates himself.

“Do I work as a bad porn star?” Jimmy finally says. “Just tell me, I can take the truth. Do you make bad videos and voice-overs, ‘ _do you want some hot action, call one-eight hundred-JIMMY_ ’-”

“It’s Saul, actually.” 

Jimmy does a double-take. “You changed your name? What’s wrong with my name?”

“It’s - look, it’s a long story, kid, you’ll see. There’s nothing wrong with your name,” he says firmly. There’s no sense in bringing this up now, not when he has less than two hours left and Jimmy looks like he’s gonna argue the point for every minute of it.

Thankfully, Jimmy is already lighting up the second joint. “‘ _To have a good time, better call Saul_.’” He giggles. Saul cringes a little.

“It would be a very good time,” Saul says defensively, and he can’t believe he lost control of this situation so quickly. The room is filled with smoke, and he’s too hot, too keyed up. He can’t fail.

“I’m not-” Jimmy starts. “Look, I don’t think-”

“You want it,” Saul interrupts him. He gently takes the joint from Jimmy’s fingers. “You want to know what it’s like, you’ve been wondering what it’s like - I know. You want to know how it feels to be fucked by someone who knows what they’re doing and who won’t use it as blackmail, someone you trust.”

Jimmy’s eyes have gone unfocused, but he gives Saul a sharp look at the end. 

“I wouldn’t trust myself,” he says. 

The words hang between them, far too honest, and Saul squirms. 

“Okay,” he finally says. “Okay, what’s the worst that could happen. That you have bad sex with yourself? That’s not exactly original.”

Jimmy laughs at him. “I can't believe I almost slept with you." 

_And we’re back_ , Saul thinks. He breathes a sigh of relief. Out loud, he says, "Okay, so you do want it. Let's go from there."

He tugs Jimmy closer and slides a hand against his cheek, and Jimmy looks like a deer caught in the headlights. His lips part under Saul’s thumb, and they taste like the pot they’ve just shared. He makes a hungry noise and - okay, so it feels weird, but it’s kissing. Saul is good at this, he likes kissing. And because they’re the same, Jimmy is, too: he’s hungry for it, licking inexpertly into Sauls’ mouth. 

Saul gives them a few minutes before he slowly undoes his own pants. Jimmy catches on and draws the sweater over his head hastily, and then Saul is sinking down onto his knees in front of Jimmy and pauses, hands frozen. For all his confident talk, this is uncharted territory. Well, mostly uncharted. He’s grateful for the pot though; hopefully Jimmy is high as a kite so he won't notice Saul’s nerves. He unfastens the jeans with steady hands, muttering, “Get up, c'mon,” and slides the pants and boxers down when Jimmy raises his hips. 

He fingers a tiny scar on the inside of Jimmy’s thigh, and remembers the slip that caused it, the sharp pain. Then his fingers move up, rubbing against Jimmy’s hole while his tongue licks lazily at Jimmy’s cock. With his free hand, he searches for the lube he’d put into his pocket. 

“Oh fuck, please,” Jimmy groans.

It’s breathtaking how Jimmy opens up to his fingers, squirming against the cushions. He’s moaning loudly and when Saul rubs the pads against his prostate, Jimmy arches against him. All of it: the taste, the noises, the little movements are so familiar that he relaxes into it. He’d told himself that it’d be essentially the same as jerking himself off, and it is and at the same time isn’t. Jimmy’s hands wander to the back of his neck and then he actually holds Saul’s head down, the selfish bastard. Not that Saul minds; he tilts his hips to rub himself against Jimmy’s shin, getting lost in it until the stuttering of Jimmy’s hips brings him back to his senses. 

He grasps Jimmy’s wrists and pushes off. 

“Hey,” Jimmy protests, and Saul silences him with a kiss. “We’re not at the good part yet,” he murmurs. 

“Looks pretty good from here,” Jimmy says. He looks - Saul had actually wondered, when he’d realized what he’d have to do, whether he could be attracted to himself. He’d been almost certain that the answer would be no. Now, he’s not so sure.

He moves in as if to hug Jimmy and flips them over. Jimmy lands in his lap with a strangled sound, and Saul breathes sharply at the weight. 

“Lift up,” he says, and yeah, there’s the hesitation in Jimmy’s eyes. _Trust me_ , he wants to say, but they’ve been there before, so he simply lifts his head and sucks kisses down Jimmy’s neck and spreads his cheeks. He slides in slowly, giving them both time to adjust. Jimmy falls into him, breathing into his neck, and Saul squeezes his eyes shut at the pleasure. Jimmy moves before Saul is ready for it, hitching his hips and sliding back down hard to rub his cock against Saul’s belly. 

The shirt rides up between them. 

“Fuck, hang on,” Saul says desperately, but Jimmy is too far gone to listen to him; he moves faster, driving himself down and it’s all Saul can do to hold on. He tugs at Jimmy’s cock, his hand on Jimmy’s hip is probably going to leave bruises, and Jimmy’s neck already looks like a crime scene, dotted with dark purple. 

Jimmy is fucking loud, too, moaning and cursing unabashedly. Saul lets himself go, slamming into Jimmy as much as he can from his position. Things become blurred; he’s wrapped up in himself and it’s with that shameful though that he comes with a choked-off moan. He feels Jimmy grip the hand Saul still has around his cock and tighten, jerking himself off with it, and he thrusts helplessly. 

When Jimmy comes, his moans become high-pitched, and then he’s releasing all over Saul’s hand and shirt. He slumps against Saul, and Saul pets his hair while they catch their breath.

“Was it everything you thought it’d be?” Saul asks after a moment, and Jimmy jerks against him.

“Fuck you,” he says. He’s laughing though, Saul can feel the smile. They untangle themselves carefully, and Jimmy lights up the last joint.

When Saul looks at his phone again, the countdown reads three minutes. 

“Knew it wasn’t a time machine,” Jimmy says. 

“Why’d you go along with it?” Saul asks. He steals one more kiss, then he stands up and fixes his clothes.

“I’m you, remember?” Jimmy says. “Seriously though, do you do phone sex?”


End file.
